Life as We Know It
by frozen-delight
Summary: In which Dean gets cooking tips from Crowley, Sam does some carpentering and Cas loves to text. In other words: A pretty normal day at the bunker. [Inspired by various scenes from 10x10 "The Hunter Games". Pretty cracky.]


Since I've written a lot of angst lately, here's something pretty cracky. It's inspired by various scenes from the episode, but takes place in some happy alternate universe where no one has to worry about the Mark of Cain. It's entirely gen and as open to pretty much all the ships as the ep itself.

Unbetaed, apologies for any mistakes and all the weirdness.

* * *

**Life as We Know It**

"You know, man, if you could reassemble doors as easily as you can burst them apart, that'd be awesome," Sam said, putting down the hammer and wiping the sweat from his brow. "Sure you never heard anything about healing splintered doors with the touch of your hand in angel high school?"

Cas looked up from his phone and frowned. "We never talked about doors in heaven."

"Shame. Give me the pliers, would you?"

With visible confusion, Cas rummaged around in the toolbox, pulling out on item after the other. "No, that's the screwdriver," Sam said. "Wait – I'll get it myself –"

"No, I've got it," Cas announced and forcefully yanked out the pliers. Unfortunately, his movement also pulled free the wrench, which soared straight in Sam's direction. Thanks to his excellent hunter's reflexes, Sam ducked in time and it hit the door he was working on instead.

Sighing, Sam ran his thumb over the fresh dent it had made on the wood. "Good thing I haven't varnished this thing yet." Then he took the pliers from Cas who was still holding them out to him proudly. "Thanks, man. Why don't you get back to texting now?"

Cas bent over his phone again, happily typing away, and Sam turned his attention back to the door.

After a while, Cas said, "Sam, did you know there's an emoticon for angels?... Hmmm, it doesn't really look like any angel I've ever met."

Sam hummed in acknowledgment.

"Sam," Cas began again, "Dean's ignoring all my texts. Do you think he's still angry because of the kitchen?"

"Oh yeah. Dean's a total neat freak about this place, and he just cleaned in there." When Cas hung his head, Sam clapped a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry too much about it, buddy, he'll come around. Just keep up the weird, dorky angel act, Dean totally digs that. And don't tell him it was part of an ancient Enochian housewarming ritual."

_oo0oo_

Dean was rooting around in his selection of herbs and spices when his phone started to ring. "Pal, you have the worst timing – I'm in the kitchen. I'm putting you on loudspeaker." He set the phone down on the countertop next to the stove and seized the basil and oregano shakers.

"_You're always in the kitchen when I call you – I'll have to ask my tailor make a nice frilly apron for you._"

"Sorry to spoil your crossdressing fantasies, but no thanks." Dean added a liberal amount of basil and oregano to the simmering pot of Bolognese in front of him. "Why don't you let him make a tie for Cas? One chick tells him she likes him in a tie, and now he's got this whole tie fetish thing going on."

"_Kinky._"

"If only. He broke down the bathroom door, again, and messed up the kitchen making pancakes after I'd just cleaned in here. Oh, and now he's constantly texting me these weird smileys that look more like giant dicks than anything else."

"_Definitely kinky._"

"It's like having a child in the house, only worse, because he's taller. I still don't know how he got the flour on the ceiling."

"_You sure he was only making pancakes, Squirrel?_"

"God I hope so." Dean stirred the Bolognese sauce, then lifted the spoon from the pot and licked it clean. "It tastes a bit stale."

"_Add a bit of garlic._"

"Since when do you cook, Crowley?"

"_Son of a witch, hello? I know my way around a little food tech._"

Dean sprinkled a bit of garlic over the pot and tried the sauce again. "Better."

"_Want me to try to it too?_"

"No."

"_Why am I not invited?_"

"Your hellhound puked all over our entrance hall the last time."

"_I told you it was an accident! She wasn't supposed to swallow the hex bag._"

"She wasn't supposed to be anywhere near my home!"

"_It was New Year's Eve – she was scared of the firecrackers. I couldn't leave her alone like that._"

Dean snorted. "You're the King of Hell, and you can't find a dog nanny?"

"_My demons have other non-virtues… the exact nature of which I'm still trying to determine._"

"Tell me if you come across something that doesn't rhyme with dickwad," Dean said and bent down to preheat the oven.

_oo0oo_

"Okay, Cas, here's the thing," Dean said when they were all tucking into the lasagna. "It's great you're here, buddy, but no more of that trying to help us around the house stuff, okay? We can't clean the kitchen or fit in a new door every time you want to cook or think you need to save Sam when he's jerking off under the shower."

Glancing meaningfully at his brother, Dean added, "It's a good thing you weren't hit by any of the splinters, Sammy. How exactly should we have explained that to A&amp;E? You don't look nearly kinky enough to have a masochistic wood fetish or something."

Sam rolled his eyes. "Dude."

Cas fixed Sam with an earnest expression. "Maybe you could show me how it sounds when you masturbate so that in the future I'll be able to tell if you're suffering from a heart attack or not?"

Dean smirked at his plate, while Sam wondered, blushing and choking on his lasagna, if he should give Cas a hint later on that he was overdoing the weird, dorky angel act. Just a little.


End file.
